


The Witch & The Huntsman

by TheFightingBull



Category: Original Work
Genre: Enchantments, F/M, Fear of being enchanted, Soulmates, no enchantments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:48:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25616122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFightingBull/pseuds/TheFightingBull
Summary: A man hears a call and answers it.
Relationships: The Witch/The Huntsman
Kudos: 2





	The Witch & The Huntsman

He stepped out into the sunlight, his arrow released into the air as it sped toward it's mark. The great buck took off, but the huntsman knew he had delivered a lethal blow. He moved with an unhurried pace as he followed the now fatally wounded deer. It fell in a heap only a few feet out of sight. It only took moments to come upon the large male. This would be enough food to last the next month if properly stored and preserved.   
  


"Hello, Huntsman." A soft raspy voice whispered into the cold air.

The hulking man turned toward the sound of the voice but no one was there. His glacial blue eyes narrowed hatefully as he searched the snowy woods for the woman that spoke out to him.

"Over here, Lover." 

  
The snow was undisturbed save for his own footprints and that of the deer. The woman that called out to him could not be seen by him. He crossed himself knowing that there were rumors of a witch living in this forest. It was the only explanation as nothing could move so fast as to leave a gentle warm breath on his neck and then run into the woods before he could turn.

  
A soft wind blew and brought with it a melodic laugh that seemed to dance in his ears. An exotic scent, no, not exotic; it simply wasn't found in the dead of winter. The fragrance tickled his nose and brought about passionate images of bodies writhing and fervent cries of lusts being fulfilled and sated. It was enough to drive a man mad with need as his body hardened and his heart quickened. Excitement filled him as he now wanted, needed to find this temptress who persistently called to him with her dark magic. 

  
He walked slowly, as if in a trance, away from his bounty and deep into the dark woods. The laughter turned from happy and playful giggles into inviting and sinful pleas to come to her, to find her. The sweet smell of roses seemed to caress his cold cheeks with a promise of warmth. He knew not the time as he walked alone, nor did he notice the sun dropping behind the majestic mountain peaks that towered so high above him. All he knew was the need, the wanton desire to find this woman and fulfill every dark fantasy that played through his mind. 

As he continued walking he could finally see a dull light glowing behind what he knew had to be a dark pane of glass. This was it, the wind continued to push at him as that scent teased and called as longingly to him as the soft cries that still churned in his mind. 

  
The home was small and seemed pressed up against a hill with several feet of snow. Had he not been so lost in desirous thoughts, he would have wondered how the roof had not yet caved in. He might have noticed how poorly built the small house was as several boards seemed only held in place by the very magic that was pulling him closer and closer to the dark wooden door. 

  
Before his frozen knuckles could rap against the only barrier that kept him from the witch, he saw her standing before him in the frame, silhouetted by the fire light that frolicked in it's movement just behind her. The petite woman was at least a foot shorter than him and seemed so very fragile that his only instinct was to draw her up into his arms and wrap them tight about her, to protect from the cold or from anything else that sought to harm her. 

  
"Hello, Huntsman."

He was shaken from his thoughts as he stared down at her. Her lovely eyes, so familiar and yet so alien stared up at him with a lustful yearning that he shared. Her green eyes, no they were blue. No, the left was green and the right was blue; they seemed to drink in the sight of him as he felt her small hand take a hold of his.

  
He found himself standing in the hovel that outside had seemed too small, well now as he stood in it, it felt much smaller. Tiny in fact. His head barely cleared the ceiling and his brawny frame made him feel a little claustrophobic. 

  
"Welcome to my home, Huntsman." He looked down to see her smile and was bewitched all over again. 

  
No longer noticing the cramped conditions of her cottage he pulled her into his arms, as he had wanted to only moments ago, and pressed his lips to hers. He held her tight to his body and as his hands roamed down her back he realized she wasn't wearing a single shred of clothing. He moaned into the impassioned kiss and found this little enchantress ready for him as she wrapped herself about him in a loving and warm embrace. 

  
"Let me help you from your clothes, Huntsman, they are wet and I do not wish illness upon you." She whispered seductively into his ear before she bit his lobe tenderly. 

  
Her small hands moved slowly and purposefully as she began to strip him bare. He looked into her eyes and saw her excitement, saw her need for him and yet there was something else that caught his keen observation. The temptress was somewhat timid of him. 

He knew at once it was his size in comparison to hers. Any woman of her stature would be smart to feel a little unease. It was the natural state of any woman to fear the strength of man. 

  
"Do not fear me, woman," He spoke for the first time this day and despite the hoarseness of it, he was content that it came out in a gentle and yet commanding tone. His hand stroked her soft fair cheek and then moved over her ear and tucked back a strand of her wavy white blonde hair. He was pleased to see her lovely smile and encouraged when he saw her relax.

* * *

The sun's rays peeked through boards and windows, the warm light resting over the face of a handsome, young huntsman. He slept peacefully in a warm bed of furs with a warm body pressed delicately into his side, an arm draped over his chest as silky white and blonde hair rested over his shoulder and biceps. The weight of the young woman's head felt nearly perfect in the crook of his arm and torso. He tried to recall where he had met this beautiful wench. What tavern had he stumbled into after his hunt?

  
The images, the sights and the smells crashed down upon him along with the startling reality that he been enraptured by the charms of a beguiling witch. He pushed her away from him angrily, not caring that she woke up in a frightened state or that she fell from the raised boards and onto the cold dirt floor. As far as he was concerned, she should be very afraid of him and what he was going to do to her. 

  
"Degenerate Witch!" The man cursed angrily as he jumped up from the bed. "How dare you ensnare me with your foul and wicked ways?"

  
"Is it really so foul and wicked of me to want a good and pure man?" She asked softly, her melancholy eyes penetrating through him and straight to his soul. "Must I be wicked because I practice ways that are foreign to you?"

  
"Witchcraft is not foreign, woman. It's evil and perverse, it is of the devil and I will not let you steal my soul!" He growled, his blue eyes as icy in shade as the mood they reflected toward her. 

  
"It's not your soul I want, Huntsman, just your heart." She whispered sadly, earnestly.

  
"No man would ever willingly give a lowly creature like yourself something so precious, as made evident by your need for the spells to begin with." He snarled bitterly. 

He should kill her, destroy her wicked soul and yet as he stared at her small form on the ground he actually felt pity for her. No, he would dress and then simply walk away.

  
"Take great care in how you speak to me Huntsman, or I will make sure you regret every cruel word that you have spit from your lips." The Witch hissed as the color in her irises began to churn and boil in ire.

  
"As if I have anything to fear of a little witch like you." He argued as he finished dressing himself. He sneered as he looked her over. "It's you who should watch that serpent's tongue or I may be forced to burn you at a stake and send you to Hell where you belong."

  
Her eyes widened in further irritation as she clenched her fists at her side and was instantly dressed and standing before him. A strange whispered language escaped her lips like a roiling fog that wrapped about him in an icy embrace. Death, it felt like, had frozen him in place. Every limb, every fiber of his being was held in place as she glared up at him. 

"Would you like to try it for yourself, Huntsman? I could tie you to a stake, pile up the bales of hay all around your feet, I could watch and laugh at you as you burn to death or suffocate on the thick black smoke as the Devil tries to rip you down to his domain."

  
With every word the witch spoke, with every piece of the terrible punishment she described he could feel his back and head pressed tight against the large wooden pole. He felt the ropes that held him securely in place as the bales of hay were thrown at his feet and placed carefully around him. The heat of the flames licked at his face as a torch was brought close, blinding him temporarily, and then it dropped to the kindling below. Thick plumes of the vile smoke filled his lungs as his feet started to burn from the fire that was beginning to grow. As he looked out, trying to get out of this spell he could see hundreds of dirty faces. They taunted, shouted and made fun; calling him a witch, a tool of Satan or the Devil's Whore. 

  
"Can you feel him, Huntsman?" The Witch's voice seemed to bring rise to the hungry flames. "Can you feel the Devil trying to pull you down in this Hell? Do you know the fear of dying, this way? Can you feel the panic in your lungs as they struggle for air or the need to scream in agony? Do you hear _their_ laughter and cursing? Can you feel the hatred of the people watching you die?"

  
The Huntsman knew not how to end this dark spell, and he began to pray for his immortal soul. Then he felt her soft hands press against his chest and those soft, tender lips kiss his cheek. He blinked and he was back in the hovel, though still unable to move. 

  
"I pray now that you understand what it is that you threaten." She said softly. "I also pray that you will forgive me for calling you to me. That and what you just went through are the _only_ spells I have cast upon you, Huntsman."

  
With a final kiss on his lips she stepped back and he was free to move again. His mind was so befuddled that he could not react in a rage as he had wanted. He did not strike the woman or make any move to bring her harm. The Huntsman found only that he was walking out of her small home.


End file.
